David R. “Poppa” Alexander


Our country called and they went,
Not knowing where they might be sent.
But there were those,
And a different road they chose.

The men that answered the call,
To meet the enemy and maybe fall:
The chosen one’s lives came unraveled
While the others chose to travel.

They burned their draft cards in protest,
And seemed like the whole country was in a state of unrest.
Across the border to Canada they fled,
While many of the chosen few would end up dead.

The traveling ones stayed till the fighting was finished,
Then an ungrateful nation allowed them to come home unpunished.
While our homeland extended a hand of welcome to these cowards,
You abandoned the soldier and allowed their mind and body to sour.

Many are sick and need help,
And you may not know of any yourself.
And you may choose not to acknowledge what is before your eyes,
And you may choose not to believe that our government lies.

Oh, I know it’s not politically correct,
And many just think that they are all derelicts.
Looking for a hand out, or government pension,
But their illness you never mention.

Homeless, addicted and drunk,
Look how low they have sunk.
It should be up to us all to give a hand,
For this broken down and out soldier is still a man.

If you don’t know of any needy, sick vets,
Then you have not opened your eyes as of yet.
How could you treat a coward so well?
And let our heroes live in HELL?

While many still honor the ones that fled,
They give no quarters to the ones that bled.
So before you go to sleep tonight,
Remember the one’s that stayed for the fight.